


Won't Stay in the Shadows Now

by MYuzuki



Series: Between the Light and the Dark [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Batfamily Feels, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Issues, Gen, Jason Todd is a good brother, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Protective Jason Todd, Resurrected Jason Todd, The League of Assassins (DCU), but he's also struggling a bit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-07-02 09:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15793527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MYuzuki/pseuds/MYuzuki
Summary: For better or worse, Jason’s back in Gotham. But as good as it is to be home, there are still plenty of problems on his plate. Not only is he trying to help Damian adjust to life outside the League of Assassins, but he’s also still struggling to come to terms with someone else carrying the name Robin.Throw in the lingering effects of the Lazarus Pit clouding his mind, a bevy of Bats who don’t seem to know how to relate to him anymore, and a sudden attack from Ra’s al Ghul’s assassins and he’s starting to wonder if maybe he should just cut his losses after all.





	1. Disconnected

**Author's Note:**

> So...hi! The original story in this series received such great feedback that I decided to turn it into a series. I don't know if I'll be able to post updates on anything resembling a consistent schedule because I have both a full-time job and a business law class I'm busy with, but I'll do my best!
> 
> Anyway, this second installment's title comes from the lyrics of a Liv Ash song titled "Never Surrender". An appropriate song for Jason in my opinion, and also just a great song in general; I strongly recommend you guys give it a listen if you have the time :)

**Chapter 1: Disconnected**

* * *

 

"This is utterly absurd," Damian grumbles, tugging on his boots with a sullen expression. "I see no purpose in this pointless excursion; my time would be far better spent training with you or Father."

Jason takes a deep breath, holds it to a count of five, and then slowly exhales. "Damian," he says patiently, "we've been over this. Life with B is not all training all the time. He wants you to have a life outside of fighting all the time. Which means that, even though you hate it right now, other sorts of, er,  _hobbies_  need to be pursued."

"The idea of alternative activities is not what I'm objecting to," Damian fires back immediately. "I am voicing my opposition to doing these things with those two buffoons whom Father calls our brothers."

"Hey now," Jason says chidingly, "what did I say about the name-calling?"

Damian gives Jason a petulant look but answers anyway. "That it is rude, childish, and beneath me," he parrots back obediently. "But  _you_  call people names all the time," he tacks on with a glare.

" _I_ am not the youngest Wayne heir trying to make a good impression on his new family," Jason reminds him pointedly.

"I don't care what they think of me," Damian huffs, and only the slight wobble of his lower lip betrays the lie.

"Uh-huh," is Jason's response, and he doesn't bother masking his blatant disbelief. He decides to let it go for now, though. Damian's frequent disagreements with the other members of their family are a sore point for all involved, and Jason's hardly going to poke at his baby brother's emotional weaknesses; he's here to protect Damian, after all, not mess up his head more than the League already has. "Look, kid, I get that this is frustrating, okay? Seriously, I do. You'd rather train or hang out with Bruce, so it sucks that you're being forced to spend time with Dick and….the other one. "

(Even after returning to the Manor with Damian and living there for three months, Jason still can't bring himself to say the name of the kid who'd replaced him both as Batman's Robin and Bruce's son; hell, he hasn't even  _met_  the other guy yet.

Which is probably for the best, all things considered. Jason's honestly not sure how he'd react to meeting the kid who'd slid into his shoes, and with the echoes of that day in Ethiopia still clanging around in his brain-pan and the Lazarus taint still slithering through his body he doubts it would be a pleasant experience for either of them.)

"I wish you would come with us," Damian mutters. "I hate being alone with them. Grayson is far too cheerful and Drake is unbearably awkward. I can't relate to them at all."

Jason puts on his best sympathetic face and neatly dodges the  _why won't you come too_  that's unspoken but very much present. "I know it's hard trying to connect with them, kid; they're still strangers, despite the fact that we've been here for a few months already. But relationships don't form overnight, especially when family's involved. So you're going to need to be patient, okay? They're trying to get to know you better, so you owe them that much in return, don't you think?"

Damian grumbles under his breath some more, but finally relents. "I suppose so," he acknowledges reluctantly. "But if they take me to another children's restaurant, I swear I will shove them both into the harbor!"

Jason does his best to muffle a snicker. "You  _really_  hated that place, huh?"

"It was noisy, it smelled terrible, the restrooms were filthy, and the food tasted like rotting cardboard," Damian snapped. "I know that I am young compared to them, but I am hardly an infant! I do not appreciate being dragged to such juvenile venues!"

Jason holds his hands up in a vain attempt to pacify his wrathful baby brother. "You don't need to tell me, buddy; I am already well acquainted with your maturity level, thanks." Which wasn't nearly as high as Damian seemed to think it was, but that was a debate for another day. "Look, I already told Dick that kiddie places like that are not a good fit for you, so you shouldn't have to worry about a repeat of that particular nightmare, okay? They might just take you to the zoo or the aquarium or something this time instead. You know, wholesome family fun or whatever."

"A zoo?" Damian repeats, looking faintly intrigued for the first time since the start of the conversation. "I suppose a chance to observe animals that I'm unfamiliar with might not be too terrible."

"Atta boy," Jason says approvingly, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Just remember, no throwing things at your brothers and no stabbing."

"If Grayson attempts to hug me without adequate advance warning-"

" _No stabbing_ ," Jason repeats firmly.

"Very well," Damian mumbles, back to looking sullen.

* * *

"Thanks for suggesting that we take him to the zoo," Dick says to Jason that evening. "I think he actually enjoyed himself for a change."

Jason side-eyes his older brother from where he's sitting on a sofa in the Manor's second story library, vaguely apprehensive.

"What were you planning to do with him before I texted you?" he asks after a moment, deciding that, what the hell, he might as well see if he can actually hold a full conversation with Dick without one of them stepping on some sort of verbal landmine.

"Tim and I were going to take him to play mini-golf," Dick replies, looking vaguely sheepish. "That place over by the art district just opened up their newest course."

Jason snorts. "Yeah, sorry to disappoint you but that would have gone over like a lead balloon; I doubt he even knows what mini-golf  _is_. He either would have had no interest whatsoever in playing or would have turned it into a high stakes competition. Which probably would have led to violence of some variety. Either way," he concludes, "not much fun for anyone."

"I know," Dick agrees. "Which is why I'm glad you gave me a head's up about what he might actually  _want_  to do." He pauses, peering at Jason intently before continuing. "You're good with him," he remarks, his tone careful.

Jason rolls his eyes. "Because I've spent time with him." Granted, that time had also been spent training within an organization of assassins, but whatever.

Dick shakes his head. "That's not it," he replies softly. "I've spent time with him, too, since you first brought him here. But I still can't connect to him the way you can, Jay. Neither can Tim."

Jason stiffens automatically as his replacement's name, but forces himself to relax, to ignore the acid green burst of fury that spikes in his chest. "Well, I don't know what to tell you, Dick. He was raised in the League and you're a former circus brat who was adopted by a billionaire. Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe there's just not that much common ground between the two of you yet?"

"That never stopped you and me from connecting," Dick responds. "We came from different backgrounds too but we always got along fine."

Jason stares at him blandly for a moment before openly laughing in the other man's face. "I don't know whose past you're remembering," he says in bitter amusement, "but I don't think we're on the same page as far as 'getting along' is concerned."

Dick now looks vaguely hurt. "Jay-"

"Look, Dick, I get it. You want us to be brothers and be all friendly and that's great, really, but you can't just erase all the times we  _didn't_  get along, okay? It doesn't fucking work like that."

Dick winces and has the good grace to look shamefaced. "Look, I know I was a bit of an ass to you when we first met, Jason," he says, swallowing hard. "But we had some good times after that, right? I mean, we trained together, and we even went skiing that one time…"

Jason wracks his mind, but can only come up with vague snatches of memory, more impressions of sound and color than anything. "Sorry," he says, half angry (without really understanding why) and half genuinely apologetic. "But I seriously don't remember it. I'm not saying that it didn't happen," he adds hastily, seeing the way Dick's whole expression starts to drop in some alarming combination of guilt and consternation, "just that I don't remember it."

"Well,  _I_  remember it," Dick fires back, now looking more annoyed than upset, almost as if he's offended that Jason doesn't have the same rosy mental picture of their brotherly bond.

"Bully for you," Jason snaps, his own temper flaring up. "Take a crowbar to the skull a couple times and an explosion to the face and see how great your memory is then, ass-wipe."

(Fucking hell, he's lucky to remember anything  _at all_  from his life before his untimely demise; according to Talia, the brain damage he'd had before being dumped into the Pit had been alarmingly extensive, and Jason can't help but be outraged at Dick's implication that what Jason  _does_  remember somehow isn't  _good_ enough.)

And now Dick looks entirely guilty and grief-stricken (and a bit like he's just been shoved into oncoming traffic, honestly), but Jason's too furious and hurt to care. He tosses down his book and storms out of the room, ignoring his brother's apologetic shouts which trail after him like phantoms.

(Somehow, ever since Jason's return, all their conversations seem to end the same way, with Dick apologizing with grief in his voice and Jason fleeing with pain in his heart.

Jason wants to get past this seemingly impossible impasse that they're facing, wants it  _desperately_ , but he can't seem to find a way to bridge the gap between himself and Dick.

Damian, Jason realizes later that night as he's lying in bed unable to sleep, is not the only person in the Manor who's having trouble connecting to his family. Or in Jason's case,  _re_ -connecting.

He starts to wonder if he might be better off to stop trying in the first place; surely it wouldn't hurt as much if he wasn't actually trying, right? After all, if he wasn't trying to re-connect with the people he'd once considered his family, then it wouldn't hurt when he failed, right?

Right?)


	2. The Scars from the Fights That Came Through the Years (Are Constant Reminders of What Got Me Here)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! For those of you who have been waiting a few months for this latest chapter, I apologize for the wait! Work has been super busy, plus I've been neck-deep in my business law class (which is actually going surprisingly well?), but I finally managed to finish writing this chapter! 
> 
> In any case: in this chapter, we have a little bit of Dick's POV, followed by a chunk of Jay's perspective. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, the chapter title is from the song "Shakedown" by The Score (the song itself is really inspirational, so you can probably expect to see lyrics from it again in the future, lol).

**CHAPTER 2:** **The Scars from the Fights That Came Through the Years (Are Constant Reminders of What Got Me Here)**

* * *

Dick has no idea what to do when it comes to Jason.

He's so glad that Jason's alive again, but no matter what he does he just can't seem to convey that to Jason in a way that gets through. He's been trying to reconnect with his brother ever since his return to Gotham, ever since Bruce's DNA tests had checked out and confirmed that the tall, lanky guy who'd shown up on the Manor doorstep with a mini assassin in tow was in fact the late Jason Peter Todd.

But he can't seem to figure out how to talk to Jason anymore. Of course, he'd never been great at holding a civil conversation with his younger brother even back when Jason had still been Robin, but this feels like a step beyond even that.

This Jason is sharp, and dangerous. And having a conversation with this new and older Jason feels, at times, a bit like playing Russian Roulette. With exploding bullets. Dick can never tell what topic or turn of conversation will set him off.

Even as a kid Jason had always been a bit rough around the edges for all that he was smart (the roughness came courtesy of his Crime Alley upbringing, Dick assumes), but this new version of Jason is just…. _different_.

Not only is Jason taller than before (which is, Dick reasons, understandable; it's been a few years and Jason is no longer fifteen years old; it's only logical for him to be taller, even if Dick hadn't expected him to grow quite  _that_ tall), his appearance has changed in small subtle ways that have nothing to do with growing up and everything to do with the time he spent…away.

There's the mysterious white streak in his hair, for example; Dick has asked about it, but Jason only ever shrugs and gives vague answers along the lines of "How the hell should I know where it came from, asshole, it's not like I did it on purpose".

Plus his eyes…Jason's always had blue eyes that were, before, just a few shades darker than Bruce's own eye color. Since Jason's return to Gotham, though, Dick's can't help but notice a greenish tint to his irises that definitely hadn't been there before.

And even ignoring all the little differences between this Jason and the Jason that Dick remembers….his brother just carries himself differently now. The way he stands, the way he sits, the way he  _moves_. The Jason he remembers had carried himself like…well, like a teenager. A teenager trained in martial arts and street fighting, but a teenager nevertheless.

This Jason, though? This Jason caries himself like he's ready to launch into action at any given moment. Honestly, it reminds Dick more of a jungle cat at rest than anything; lounging around perfectly at ease, but entirely capable of ripping your throat out with the slightest provocation.

It makes him, if he's being brutally honest with himself, a little uncomfortable. He hasn't dared to broach the subject of Jason's missing years yet, but he knows enough about the League of Assassins to know that any time spent training with them can't have been all puppies and sunshine. They were, after all,  _assassins_. A lot of Jason's behavior now must stem from the time he'd spent training with them, and Dick just…doesn't know what to do with that.

All in all, Dick can't help but feel like the brother who returned from beyond the grave is a complete and total stranger to him.

Throw in his newest little brother Damian, who actually  _is_  a complete and total stranger to him, and Dick's starting to feel like he's been transplanted into some sort of bizarre alternate reality.

He kind of wants to talk to Bruce about it (scratch that, he  _really_  wants to talk to Bruce about it) but Bruce has just been so blatantly relieved to have Jay back that Dick hasn't been able to bring himself to mention his own issues, or all the little not-quite-right things that no one seems to want to deal with.

Babs isn't an option right now, either, mostly because she's right in the middle of helping Spoiler and Black Bat run down a serial killer who's been leaving bodies in trash bins around the city, which leaves Dick with just Tim to talk to.

Tim, who has always looked up to Jason. Tim, who had taken on the mantle of Robin simply for the sake of helping Batman (for the sake of helping Bruce, who'd been in a definite downward spiral at the time).

Tim, who Jason has been avoiding like a plague carrier ever since he'd first flown into Gotham with Damian. Tim, who is quite possibly the smartest person Dick has ever have the privilege of meeting (other than Babs of course, who inhabits a tier of intelligence that is hers and her alone).

Tim, who could almost definitely help Dick figure out how to reach out to Jason more effectively. Or barring that, at least help Dick figure out why Jason's suddenly behaving so differently from the boy he'd been before.

Dick, previously about to call up Bruce or Alfred, decides to give his second youngest brother a call instead . "Hey, Tim," he says, careful to keep his tone cheerful so that Tim doesn't worry too much. "If you're not busy right now, wanna grab lunch?"

* * *

Jason had, somehow, forgotten how terrible the traffic in Gotham was during his time away. "This sucks," he declares, tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as he glares fruitlessly at the stop light two cars in front of him that has been stubbornly red for the past twenty minutes as an endless barrage of opposing traffic turns left at the intersection.

Damian,who's spent the entire drive not-so-subtly sulking in the passenger seat, glances up from the zoology book he'd been paging through. "If the traffic is truly that bad, perhaps we should turn around and try again on another day," he offers, a thin thread of hope clear in his tone.

"Nice try, kid," Jason says dryly. "You're not getting out of your doctor's appointment that easily."

Damian's hopeful look crumples down into his more customary scowl. "I shouldn't have to go to a doctor's appointment in the first place," he complains. "This is a complete and utter waste of time."

"Bruce just wants to make sure that you're on track developmentally and all that shit," Jason says, huffing out a short sigh of relief when the light finally changes to green. "Plus there are some vaccinations you need to get before you can get enrolled in school."

"Enrolled in school?" Damian echoes, confusion clear on his young face. "What are you talking about? I don't need to attend school! I've been privately tutored in multiple subjects and languages since the age of three!"

Jason rolls his eyes even as he flicks on a turn signal to switch lanes. "Don't get snappy at me, kid, it's Bruce's idea. It's part of his plan to show you what normal life is like, I think."

"Completely preposterous," is Damian's immediate proclamation on the matter, followed by another grumble about school.

Jason, who has always enjoyed learning simply for the sake of learning, can't quite fathom what Damian's objection to a formal education is based on, but decides to let the whole topic slide for now. After all, his mission for the day is to get Damian to and from the doctor's office with as little hassle as possible.

Normally, this would be something that Alfred would handle, but Damian had insisted that Jason take him instead, latching onto Jason's elbow earlier that morning and glaring daggers at him until he'd agreed.

(Jason won't admit it to anyone, but there's a little bubble of warmth in his chest that's been there since that moment.)

And as much as Jason hates gridlock stop-and-go traffic, there's very little he won't do for Damian at this point. The precocious little brat had snuck right past Jason's walls and into his heart before he'd even noticed it.

(Jason's honestly not sure when it had happened, whether it was a recent thing or something that had taken root way back when he'd first spotted Damian after a League training session, but there's no denying it: Damian is his brother now, in all the ways that matter.)

Which is how he ended up driving a borrowed Cadillac through downtown Gotham during morning rush hour. If it were anyone else's doctor's appointment, he wouldn't be doing this. Hell, if it was his  _own_  doctor's appointment he wouldn't be doing this. But this is Damian, and he has a responsibility to the kid.

When they hit another red light barely two blocks down from the previous one, though, he can't help but thump his head on the top of the steering wheel. "Oh, come on," he groans.

"This is completely ridiculous," Damian grouses. "We could get there faster on foot."

In all honestly, Jason agrees with the kid completely, but before he can voice that agreement aloud one of the cars currently passing through the intersection suddenly explodes, sending fiery shrapnel hurtling through the air in all directions.

"Damian, get down," Jason orders, even as he unbuckles from his seat belt and lunges over to shield the brat with his body.

"What was that?"Damian asks, and although his tone is demanding the words come out shaky. "What is happening?"

"An explosion," Jason replies. "And stay  _down_ ," he adds, pushing on Damian's shoulders when the kid tries to lift his head up to sneak a peek at what's going on.

Once Jason's relatively sure that Damian's hunkered down on the floorboard, Jason wastes no time in quickly snapping open the glove compartment and retrieving the emergency stun gun that's hidden underneath the car's registration paperwork. He has no idea if a stun gun is going to be helpful against whoever (or whatever) caused the explosion, but it's marginally better than being without weapons completely.

(He vaguely regrets agreeing to Bruce's request that he not carry any serious weapons with him on the trip to the doctor's office. Honestly, they both should have known better; this was  _Gotham_ , after all.)

A moment later, a second explosion goes off, and Jason's not sure what it says about Gotham in general (or his life specifically) that he's only mildly surprised when that second blast precedes the sudden appearance of four ninja assassins, decked out in traditional League garb.

"What is it?" Damian asks, apparently picking up something from Jason's facial expression. "What's wrong?"

"Er…nothing," Jason replies, surreptitiously checking to make sure the stun gun's set to the strongest possible charge.

"You are a terrible liar," Damian pronounces.

"Excuse you," Jason retorts, "I am a  _fabulous_  liar, thank you."

Damian gives a small snort, but otherwise doesn't dignify Jason's assertion with a response. Instead, he circles back around to the topic Jason had been trying to dodge. "Who's out there?"

Jason waffles over whether or not to tell the kid the truth….for all of five seconds. After all, he reasons, it's not like Damian's not going to figure it out anyway, once the League goons get closer; the kid grew up in the League for fuck's sake, he'd be able to recognize those uniforms from a mile away.

"Well, I could be mistaken," Jason says, glancing down at Damian from the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction while still keeping the four incoming attackers in his main line of sight, "but it looks an awful lot like a team of League assassins. Four assassins, to be exact."

"League operatives?  _Here_?" Damian looks at Jason with wide eyes. "What could they possibly want in Gotham?"

Truthfully, the League probably has plenty of interests in Gotham. But if they're attacking  _here and now_ , then they must want… "Us, probably." And Jason very much wishes he had something besides a stun gun to use against them.

(He doesn't care what Bruce says, he's never leaving the Manor again without at least three separate knives on his person. Possibly more.)

"Don't worry, though," Jason adds. "I won't let them take you."

"I'm not worried," Damian snaps, but the slight tremble in his lower lip gives away the lie (and also serves to remind Jason of how  _young_  Damian is; even now, he still has a hard time remembering that his brat of a brother should technically still be in grade school).

"Damian, I'm going to protect you, okay?  _I promise._ "

A few seconds of silence, then "I believe you," in such a soft voice that Jason almost misses hearing it.

He reaches out to squeeze Damian's shoulder briefly, then takes a deep breath. The assassins are closer now, just a few yards away. 

"On the count of three," Jason says now, "I'm going to open my door and get out of the car, okay? You follow right behind me and  _stay close_. Whatever happens -however they come at us- you stay right by me, do you understand?"

Damian swallows hard, but nods. "I understand," he says seriously, his expression severe in a way Jason hasn't seen since they first fled the League with Talia's blessing.

"Alright." Jason sucks in another deep breath, feeling the adrenaline rushing through his body along with that acidic green tingle he's come to associate with the Lazarus Pit's leftover energy. "Let's get going, then. You ready?"

"Yes."

"Okay. One…two… _ **three!**_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...about that cliffhanger? I'm really sorry! I promise to not leave you guys hanging too long, though, okay? ;D  
> (And if it's any consolation, Babs is in the next chapter, so there's that to look forward to.)


	3. Burned My Wings Close to the Sun, But I'll Keep On Flying (I'm Too Young For Dying)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so! I am sorry again about that cliffhanger, but to make it up to you guys this chapter has both some Babs POV and some Tim POV. Weirdly no Jason POV in this chapter despite this being a Jason-centric story, but that's how the cookie crumbles sometimes I guess. (And don't worry; he's definitely in the chapter, it's just not done in his perspective.) XD
> 
> Also, disclaimer: I, once again, might have fudged with the comic book timelines a bit, mostly in regards to when the death of Tim's dad occurred in relation to the current events of the story (basically: For the purposes of this fic/AU, Jack Drake was killed about a year before Jason showed up with Damian).

**Chapter 3: Burned My Wings Close to the Sun, But I'll Keep On Flying (I'm Too Young For Dying)**

* * *

Barbara Gordon is, if she says so herself, no longer the sort of woman who is genuinely surprised or taken aback by much of anything anymore.

Someone's holding up a bank? Been there, done that.

(In fact, she's resolved bank robberies both as Batgirl and as Oracle; it had been an adjustment at first, working from behind a computer screen rather than in person, but she likes to think she'd handled that transition well.)

There's been a breakout at Blackgate? Well, that's practically to be expected at this point, given how abysmal their security protocols are.

A supervillain's poisoned the city's water supply? Must be Tuesday.

All in all, while she is occasionally bemused or disturbed by the various occurrences throughout Gotham, more often than not there's just a weary sort of resignation, coupled with a fierce determination to set things right.

One of the few things in recent memory that has shaken her up is Jason's seemingly miraculous return to life. She's glad to have him back, of course, so glad that it's almost painful, but even so…

Even so, it's thrown her off-kilter. And she in turn has thrown herself into her vigilante work in the hopes of finding her equilibrium again.

(She's not sure what it says about who she's become, that wading through police files and autopsy reports with the end goal of catching a serial killer is something she does to  _find_  balance in her life.)

Her efforts at finding some semblance of normalcy in her vigilante life come to a screeching halt, however, when Jason shows up at her Watchtower with Damian in tow, both of them looking like they've gone a few rounds against a knife-wielding pro-wrestler.

There's a thin gash along one of Damian's legs as if someone had been aiming for his hamstring and just missed the mark ever so slightly ( _an attempt to hobble him_ , the analytical part of her mind supplies) and Jason's nursing a split lip as well as several cuts across his arms, not to mention the nasty-looking eggplant-colored bruise that's blossoming across his left jaw and cheekbone.

"What the hell happened to the two of you?" she demands, granting them entry into her domain the second she sees them on her security cameras.

"Sorry to barge in on you like this without warning," Jason says in response, blatantly attempting to avoid the question. "I normally wouldn't drop in unannounced, I swear."

(She can't help but notice the way his gaze skitters away from her wheelchair, as well. It's been hard for him, she knows; she's had plenty of time to adapt to her paraplegia by now, but Jason obviously still remembers her as Batgirl, kicking ass and taking names. The fact that the Joker had been the one to cripple her certainly wasn't helping, either.

It occurs to her, somewhat belatedly, that he must feel as uncertain with the new her as she is with the new him.)

"Jason Peter Todd," she says now, using what she privately thinks of as her no-nonsense-mentor-voice, " _what happened_?"

Jason glances down at Damian (who's half-tucked behind him and eyeing Barbara with a look that's half suspicious and half curious) and then looks back at her with a vaguely chagrined expression on his face. "We may have been attacked by some League of Assassins operatives on our way to a doctor's appointment," he admits reluctantly.

It takes even Barbara's brilliant brain a moment to process that statement. "The League of Assassins," she repeats slowly. Then, "On the way to  _a doctor's appointment_?"

"Yep."

She huffs out a short sigh that's partly frustrated and partly amused. "Only you, Jason, could get the world's deadliest organization hounding you on the way to a medical appointment. And you've only been back in Gotham for what? Three months? Unbelievable."

He gives her a crooked grin that reminds her of  _before_ , back when he was Robin and she was Batgirl. "Aw, come on, Babs. You say that like you think I attract trouble."

"You  _absolutely_  attract trouble," she complains, but there's an obvious note of fondness in her voice that she doesn't bother to conceal.

(Jason might be different now -might be taller and older and more dangerous- but he's still undeniably  _Jason_. And that's more of a relief than Barbara can say.)

"Anyway," Jason says now, absently pressing a hand to his bruised jaw with a faint grimace (which makes her suspect a hairline fracture in the jawbone rather than simple bruising, because even as a teenager Jason had only ever displayed visible discomfort for his more serious injuries), "I managed to take down the ones that came at us downtown, but I seriously doubt that they're the only operatives that Ra's sent."

"You're right," Barbara agrees. "He's not the sort to rely on just one strike team to get the job done. Unless he simply underestimated you, of course."

Jason gives a snort of laughter. "I don't doubt that he underestimated me, but the original point still stands regardless: more League operatives will be coming for me and Damian, sooner rather than later."

Barbara flashes him a grim smile and cracks her knuckle. "Well, good thing you don't have to deal with them all by yourself, isn't it?"

Jason shoots her a startled look, seemingly torn between surprise and panic. "What? No, Babs, don't be ridiculous. I can't possibly ask you to-"

"You're not asking," Barbara says, promptly cutting off whatever he'd been about to say. "I'm volunteering. I may not be Batgirl anymore, but I can be a pretty effective ally as Oracle, too." She turns her wheelchair around and wheels over to her primary workstation, already making a mental checklist of the various databases that might prove useful.

There's a brief moment of silence, then, "You've impressive at  _everything_  you do, Babs. You always have been. That hasn't changed a bit."

Barbara can't help the small smile the quirks up the corners of her mouth. "Thanks, Jay. Now, there's an obscenely well-stocked first aid kit over there by that back-up generator." She gestures to it with one hand as she starts typing on her keyboard with the other. "Why don't you and Damian get yourselves fixed up while I have some fun with Gotham's CCTV cameras?"

* * *

Tim's not sure why Dick suddenly wants to have lunch with him.

Sure, they've gotten together for lunch or even a late breakfast plenty of times before, sometimes to exchange information gathered on their respective vigilante exploits and other times just to hang out, but something about this time just feels  _off_.

They'd just seen each, after all, when they'd taken Damian to the zoo just a few days previously. So what could Dick possibly want that couldn't wait?

Tim has a nagging suspicion that it's something to do with Jason.

Dick's been all kinds of erratic ever since the second Robin had returned to Gotham, seemingly resurrected from the dead. (Though the  _how_  was still anyone's guess; Tim himself has a few theories, but each is more outlandish than the last.)

And as if Jason's homecoming wasn't dramatic and impactful enough on its own, Tim's predecessor had shown up at Wayne Manor with a baby assassin in tow.

Well, "baby" was a bit of an exaggeration; Damian might be a bit baby- _faced_ , but he's hardly an infant.

He's  _definitely_  a brat, though. They're getting along fine enough now (all things considered, at least) but the first time Tim had met the kid and tried to introduce himself, Damian had been not simply wary but downright  _hostile_.

The continued friction between them (which has been buffered somewhat by Dick's persistently buoyant presence on their outings) seems to have something to do with Tim being Robin, but Tim can't figure out why such a thing irritates Damian of all people; it's not like the kid has any sort of stake in Robin, after all.

If anything,  _Jason_  should be upset with him for taking up the mantle of Robin, but Tim hasn't even managed to meet Jason in person yet since the latter's arrival in Gotham; it seems like Bruce's second son is avoiding him. Subsequently, he has no idea how Jason feels about Tim being Robin, although he strongly suspects that the feelings aren't positive.

(Tim can't help but wonder sometimes if maybe Damian is upset with him on Jason's behalf, if the kid is angry over Tim's apparent supplantation of Jason as Robin.

He really hopes that's not the case, because Tim doesn't know how to explain the truth to a ten-year-old.

Doesn't know how to say  _"Batman needed a Robin because otherwise he was going to get himself killed"_  without freaking the kid out, because (regardless of that kid's assassin-trained nerves of steel) Batman is Bruce and  _Bruce is Damian's father_.

Tim really doesn't want to tell the kid that the dad he's barely getting to know was borderline suicidal before Tim took it upon himself to intervene.)

Nevertheless, even with his suspicions about Dick wanting to talk about something Jason-related, he agrees to meet up with his brother for lunch (and damn if it isn't  _still_  weird to think of Dick as his legal sibling, for all that the adoption had been finalized almost a year ago, not long after he'd buried the man who'd raised him).

They decide to go to some Italian place, partially because Dick wants to try the tiramisu on their desserts menu and also because it's close enough to Tim's high school to allow him to head over during his free period.

(He's still contemplating the idea of dropping out of school altogether, but every time he seriously considers just never going back he remembers all the times his father had told him how important his education was. And somehow he just never managed to go through with actually dropping out.

Tim has a lot of regrets tangled up in his feelings for his father and he doesn't want this to be another one, regardless of the fact that his father is no longer alive and as such is in no position to be disappointed in his life choices anyway.)

Dick greets him with a beaming smile as usual, his grin so bright that it wouldn't be out of place in a toothpaste commercial. "Hey, Tim! Thanks for agreeing to meet up for lunch, I know it was last minute."

"It's no problem," Tim assures him. "I could use a break anyway."

"I'm not taking you away from studying, am I?" Dick asks, abruptly looking worried. "I mean, I know it's your free period, but-"

"No, it's fine," Tim interjects quickly. "All I have coming up is a history paper due by next Monday. Totally not a big deal at all."

Dick looks like he's about to say something about that (probably an offer to help him with the paper or something, even though they both know that high school history papers are not precisely within Detective Richard Grayson's area of expertise) but the waitress chooses that moment to finally appear at their table.

"Can I get you gentlemen some refreshments before you order?" she offers.

"I'll have some sweet lemonade, please," Dick replies, giving the server a friendly smile.

"Just water for me, thanks," Tim adds, even though what he  _really_  wants is coffee or an energy drink (sadly, this restaurant is slight too upscale for things like Red Bull and according to the laminated menu they'd stopped serving coffee over an hour ago).

"Sure thing," the waitress tells them, already turning and heading for the kitchen area. "I'll be right back."

"So," Tim says once she's out of earshot, "what did you want to talk about?"

Dick actually  _fidgets_ , absently twisting the fancy restaurant napkin between his fingers. "Uh. Well, I-" He clears his throat, looking torn between embarrassment and worry. "I was just hoping to get some input on some, uh, stuff."

Tim stares at him blankly. "Stuff," he repeats flatly, then (because he's not an idiot) "Can I assume that it's stuff to do with Jason?"

Dick gives a sheepish grin. "That obvious, huh?"

Tim rolls his eyes. "Dick, if you were any  _less_  subtle you'd be dressed in neon. Although now that I think about it, wasn't there that one time-"

"Okay, okay, I get it, shut up," Dick says, interrupting him with a laugh. "Look," he goes on, expression turning serious again, "I'm just…worried about him, you know? He's just been acting so strange ever since he, uh,  _came back_. I swear, I can be in the middle of a conversation with him and suddenly it's like I'm talking to a completely different Jason from the one I remember!"

 _Hoo boy._  Tim hasn't had nearly enough caffeine yet today to be ready for  _this_  conversation. "Well," he says slowly, measuring his words carefully, "I'm hardly an authority on the subject of Jason considering the fact that _I haven't even met him yet_ , but have you considered that maybe it's because he pretty much  _is_  a completely different person? No, hear me out," he insists when Dick opens his mouth to object. "Not only did Jason die and somehow return to life, which seems like the sort of thing that would change a person's behavior all on its own, but he's also spent the last few years with  _the League of Assassins_. Presumably, he was training to be an assassin during that time, which is something else that I assume would have a significant impact on his attitude in general, if not his entire psyche. So-" Tim cuts himself off as the waitress returns with their drinks before picking up where he left off once she's taken their food orders and sashayed away again.

"So," Dick prompts, looking tense and unhappy but still apparently willing to listen.

Tim takes a deep breath and fiddles around with the straw in his water glass before continuing, trying to marshal his thoughts back together. "So," he says, "that's three dramatic, and also  _traumatic_ , life-altering events so far: dying, resurrecting, and training to be an assassin. Even just  _one_  of those is enough to profoundly alter the way someone behaves, and Jason's dealing with all three things stacked on top of each other. Is it really so hard to believe that all that trauma has affected him? And even ignoring all of that, he's just…" Tim huffs out a frustrated sigh as he struggles to find the right words. "He's not acting like the kid you remember because he's just not that kid anymore. Things have changed.  _He's_  changed." He sighs when he sees the look on Dick's face, somewhere between confused and obstinate. "Are you actually listening to anything I'm saying, or am I wasting my breath over here?"

Dick shakes his head, mouth pulled down in a frown. "No, it's fine, I'm listening. It's just…I'm just so  _frustrated_ , Tim. I hear what you're saying, I really do, but it's  _Jason_. Sure, we didn't always get along, but he's my  _brother_. I feel like I should be able to talk to him, but I can't. Every time I try it ends with one of us pissed off at the other. And I'm not sure what to do about it."

Tim's pretty sure he can feel a headache coming on. "I don't supposed you've considered talking to Jason himself about this issue?"

Dick stares at him like he's morphed into an alien life-form. "You want to me to talk to Jason about how I can't talk to him anymore?" he asks, tone blatantly skeptical.

Tim sucks in a deep breath, reminds himself that Dick was pretty much raised by Bruce (meaning that communication between family members is probably something that never got discussed at any stage of development), and barely restrains the urge to smash his head into the table. "Oh, look," he says lamely, desperately changing the subject as the waitress miraculously appears, heading their way with their lunch orders, "food's here."

Dick gives him the Disappointed Look that he's become so masterful at, but Tim ignores it in favor of stuffing a forkful of pasta into his mouth.


	4. Trouble is Closing In (I Can Feel the Ground Trembling)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone, welcome back! Thanks as always for all the fabulous feedback that's pouring in; you're all so sweet. <3
> 
> Anyway, this chapter ended up being split pretty evenly between Jason's POV and Tim's POV. And Babs once again features heavily in the whole chapter because 1) she's awesome and I love her and 2) when it comes right down to it, she seems to be the only person (other than Alfred) who has their shit together. XD (No, but like seriously; in this AU so far she's pretty much the only one who isn't a total hot mess. Only Sane Batfamily Member, thy name is Babs.)
> 
> Also, for anyone who's wondering: the martial arts move mentioned in this chapter, kani-basami, is actually a real thing, and it's my understanding that the risk of critically injuring your opponent is so high that it's been banned from use in judo.

**Chapter 4: Trouble is Closing In (I Can Feel the Ground Trembling)**

* * *

 

As Jason watches Barbara hack into Gotham's CCTV system in under ten minutes, neatly breaking through three layers of digital security in the process, he's reminded of why she's possibly the single most terrifying woman on the face of the planet, paraplegia or no paraplegia.

"Damn, Babs." He gives a whistle of appreciation. "I don't know whether to be impressed that you're so good, or disturbed that the city's firewalls are so bad."

"Their security  _is_  pretty abysmal, isn't it?" Babs shakes her head in resignation, the light from her multiple computer monitors reflecting off her glasses as she gives a long-suffering sigh. "Honestly, I've been tempted to upgrade it for them on the sly on more than one occasion, but I haven't gotten around to it yet."

Jason finds it hilarious that Barbara, a woman who could almost definitely bring both the economy and the government crashing down around their ears with a few well-placed keystrokes, is so personally offended by the City of Gotham's subpar cyber security that she wants to fix it herself.

Wisely, however, he decides not to comment on it and instead focuses his attention on the different streams of video footage that Barbara's pulling up on the screens. "Any sign of the League goons who attacked me and Damian?" he asks, peering at the time-stamps. "I was so focused on getting Damian out of there that I didn't see where they scampered off to."

"I still maintain that we could have run them down ourselves," Damian calls out, looking up from the jigsaw puzzle Babs had given him to keep him busy. "One of them was even bleeding! The trail would have been easy to follow."

(Jason's pretty sure that the puzzle isn't going to distract a kid like Damian for very long, especially given the current circumstances, but he'll take what he can get at this point.)

"Yeah, easy to follow  _right into a trap_ ," Jason retorts. "In case you've forgotten, kid, all I've got right now is a stun gun. We're lucky to have gotten away the first time; I ain't in the mood to borrow trouble by chasing after the assassins who are trying to capture us."

Damian grumbles under his breath but thankfully doesn't argue, instead dropping his gaze to scowl at the half-formed image of a horse that he's slowly assembling.

Content that Damian will keep himself occupied for at least the next seven and a half minutes, Jason turns back to the computer screens. "Right, where were we?"

Babs gives a little snort of amusement, but obligingly pulls up some old footage from earlier in the day, typing in what seems to be some sort of search algorithm to find what she's looking for. "Well, here's the video from when they attacked you on the street. Good job on how you handled that ambush, by the way. I particularly liked the way you handed the second attacker his ass with that  _kani-basami_."

Jason can practically feel his face heating up from the praise; he's a sucker for approval of any kind and he knows it, but even so he's never known how to fucking  _handle_  it. He's too used to  _dis_ approval from the authority figures in his life. "I, uh-" He coughs to clear his throat. "Thanks. Talia helped me work out the kinks in my technique."

(After all, a move like the  _kani-basami_  isn't something he'd learned from Bruce; it had been forbidden during his tenure as Robin, since the risk for crippling or even fatally injuring an opponent was presumably too high for heroes.

But not for assassins.)

A brief moment of silence as Barbara digests Jason's words (and presumably all the words he's  _not_  saying as well), then, "Anyway, once you left with Damian, it looks like they decided to beat feet, too. Now, I briefly lost track of them since a few of the CCTV cameras in that part of the city aren't operational at the moment due to budget cuts-"

"Budget cuts. Of fucking course," Jason says, rolling his eyes. "Trust the city not to prioritize security cameras over the mayor's salary."

"-but I managed to pick up their trail again a few blocks away, down by the bank on 8th Street," Babs says, not missing a beat over his interjection. "They split up into two pairs. The first pair didn't go very far, probably on account of the injuries you gave them. In any case, they seem to have holed up in an abandoned tenement near the freight yards." She taps away at her keyboard until the relevant information about the building pops up. "Alright, the address is 662 Ashland Street. And according to this Healthy and Safety report, everything from the second floor up is pretty much falling to pieces and not fit for habitation. So they're probably hunkered down on the ground floor or down in the basement."

"And the other pair?" Jason asks.

"Last seen entering Giordano Botanical Gardens," Barbara supplies, cycling through the footage to show the two assassins in question slipping into a shadowy cluster of trees and disappearing. "And I haven't picked up any footage of them _leaving_ , so presumably they're still in there. Somewhere."

"Maybe it's our lucky day and some of Poison Ivy's mutated plants ate them for lunch," Jason offers hopefully.

Babs just rolls her eyes. "There are no lucky days in Gotham," she says dryly.

Jason concedes the point with a slight nod. "True enough."

Babs smirks, then sighs. "Well, how do you want to play this, Jay? We've got two separate targets, both of which needs to be neutralized, but there's only one of you. You'll need to decide who to pursue first."

"I am here as well," Damian snaps, bristling like an offended kitten.

Jason scrubs a hand through his hair, already beyond fed up with this day. "Yes, and here with Barbara is exactly where you'll stay while I deal with this nonsense."

The kid shoots to his feet, sending puzzle pieces flying off the table to scatter on the floor. "That's preposterous," he says, looking about as outraged as a ten-year-old can. "You cannot simply leave me behind! I am their target as much as you are, if not more, which gives me just as much right to fight them as you!"

"Yeah, you're not really helping your case there, buddy. The fact that you're their target is precisely why you need to stay out of sight."

"But I-"

" _Damian_ ," Jason says, and there must be something in his tone or expression because the kid actually stops mid-word, his mouth snapping shut with an audible click. "You need to stay here because  _I want to keep you safe_. And coming with me to confront cornered League operatives? Very much  _not_  safe." Honestly, even just the  _thought_  of one of Ra's al Ghul's goons getting within grabbing distance of Damian is enough to make Jason want to punch something, which in turn stirs up that acidic green taint that's running through his veins. "So please, for the sake of my sanity if nothing else, stay here with Babs."

Damian just looks at him, and for a moment Jason's worried that the kid's going to keep arguing but finally his baby brother relents with a jerky nod. "Very well," he says, his voice strained. "I will remain here with Barbara Gordon." He looks away, swallows hard, and then glances back at Jason. "But if you fall out of contact for more than an hour at a time I  _will_  be coming after you!"

Jason very carefully doesn't give a snort of laughter at the fierce look on Damian's face. "Deal," he agrees, because it's an easy promise to make; he fully intends to stay in touch with Babs during the entirely of his hunt for the operatives anyway, and this way he can keep track of Damian without seeming blatantly paranoid.

Barbara, for her part, looks equal parts amused and fond. "Well," she says, "now that  _that's_  all settled, let's get this show on the road. Firstly, Damian, why don't you come hang out over here with me; I could use some help sifting through the rest of the CCTV footage. And Jay, I have some spare gear and equipment that you can use to suit up, plus a domino mask if you're so inclined."

Jason almost turns down the offer of the mask, but then reconsiders; there's a chance that his upcoming fights might spill out onto the streets again, after all, and it's probably better for all involved if his face doesn't get plastered across every TV screen in Gotham during Vicki Vale's five o'clock news report. So he tells Babs "I'll take you up on that, thanks," and grabs some gear, ducking into the Clocktower's locker room to get changed.

 _Just like the good old days_ , he thinks, and the thought is bittersweet.

* * *

Tim's halfway home to the Manor after school when the Bluetooth in his car pings to alert him to an incoming call. Glancing down at the console lets him know that it's Barbara and he answers it after a brief moment of hesitation, torn between curiosity (does she need his help with something?) and worry (has something happened to Stephanie, or Cassandra?) because generally speaking Oracle doesn't call him directly like this; they don't have much contact with one another outside of their respective vigilante work .

"Um…hello?" is what he greets her with, and then kind of wants to kick himself because  _come on, Tim_.

If Barbara's put off by his blatant social ineptitude, though, it doesn't show in her voice. "Hi, Tim. Sorry to call you during your drive back from school, but I was hoping to ask you for a favor."

"A favor?" he echoes, then mentally backtracks. "Wait, hold on, how do you know I'm driving home from school right now?"

"Because your car is LoJacked, courtesy of Bruce," is Barbara's prompt response, and she definitely sounds amused. "And I have access to the tracking program."

Tim considers asking whether Bruce actually gave her access to the tracking program or if she'd simply obtained it on her own, then decides that it probably doesn't matter anyway. "Okay, my adoptive dad put a tracker in my car. That's not creepy  _at all_."

"If it makes you feel any better, he's done it with all of us at some point? Even me, and I'm the  _police commissioner's_  daughter."

It occurs to Tim, very belatedly, that he's been adopted into a family of complete and utter lunatics. "That's not even remotely reassuring, but thanks for trying." He huffs out a short sigh as he hits a patch of traffic and has to hit the brakes. "Anyway, you said something about a favor?"

"Yeah," Babs says, and now there _is_  a slight note of hesitancy in her voice. "So…it's like this: The League of Assassins is in town, they're after Damian, and Jason could use some back-up."

Tim nearly rear-ends the poor bastard in front of him, he's so startled by this abrupt turn of events. " _What_."

"You heard me."

"Yes, I heard you, but  _what?_ " Tim notices that his grip on the steering wheel has gone white-knuckled and loosens it with no small amount of effort. "Does Dick know? More importantly, does  _Bruce_?"

"Not yet," Barbara replies. "Bruce has been stuck in a shareholder meeting all day, and we didn't want to interrupt him unnecessarily."

"Okay, putting aside the fact that Bruce hates shareholder meetings and would love for it to be interrupted, if it's the League of Assassins trying to attack Damian to get to Bruce I feel like it's pretty damn necessary that he know what's going on."

"And if they were trying to get to Damian as a means of getting to Bruce, I would agree with you. But they're going after Damian to  _get Damian_ , not Bruce."

"I say again,  _what?_ "

"Well, apparently Ra's isn't pleased that Jason absconded with his heir and wants him back. Go figure." A slight pause, then, "So, can you back up Jay or not? He's running down the League operatives that attacked them and I'd feel a hell of a lot better about it if he had someone watching his back."

"And you called  _me_?" Tim asks, vaguely aghast. "Babs, Jason  _hates_  me."

Barbara scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous, he doesn't hate you."

Tim doesn't bother stifling the skeptical noise he makes. "Not to argue with your genius intellect, but I'm pretty sure he does."

"And I'm pretty sure you're wrong," is her immediate response. "Look, I know things have been rough since he got back into town-"

"Understatement," he grumbles.

"-but he could really use some help right now, even if he won't admit it. Maybe especially because he won't admit it," she adds, the words almost absentminded.

"So call Dick!" Tim exclaims. "I'm sure he'd love a chance to help Jason."

"...Are you saying you _won't_ help him?" Babs asks now, her voice very, very quiet.

"What? No, of course not! I'm not refusing to help, I just-" Tim strangles a groan of frustration. "Jason probably won't even  _accept_  my help, you have to realize that!"

"He's more likely to accept your help than Dick's," Barbara informs him, her tone matter-of-fact.

Tim does groan now, and it's only because he's still in the middle of navigating traffic that he doesn't bang his head on the steering wheel. "And is that before or after he punts me off the top of a skyscraper?"

"Now you're just being needlessly over-dramatic," Babs says chidingly. "Jason would never seriously hurt you on purpose and you know it."

"No," Tim fires back, "I  _don't_  know that, because  _I don't know Jason._ " And what little he knows _about_  Jason isn't terribly reassuring; sure, he'd been Robin, but that was years ago, before he'd died and resurrected and  _trained to be an assassin_.

(Tim  _wants_  to hope for the best, he really does. Because Jason had been _his_ Robin, the one he'd looked up to as a little kid, and that sort of hero worship doesn't just go away. But Tim's older now, and more pragmatic about putting his faith in other people.

Or perhaps just more cynical; it's hard to tell the difference sometimes.)

"Well, there's no time like the present for the two of you to get acquainted with one another, then," Babs responds, not missing a beat. "Anyway, I've already contacted Alfred; he's waiting at the Cave to help you suit up."

"Wait a minute. You told Alfred what's going on, but not Bruce?" Tim demands.

"Of course I told Alfred, Tim, it's  _Alfred_. Besides, he was going to figure out something was up anyway, once he realized that Damian never made it to his doctor's appointment. And can you imagine the look on his face if he found out I knew what was going on and  _didn't_  tell him?"

Tim winces, because…yeah. Disappointing Alfred is an entirely different beast from disappointing Bruce and he can't blame Babs for having her priorities in order. "Alright, fair point," he concedes, "But I'd still like to have it on record that I think this is a  _terrible_  idea."

"So noted," Barbara says, and Tim generously ignores the laughter in her voice.


	5. Can You Hear the Fury (The Tides Now Are Turning)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, everyone! Thanks as always for all the amazing feedback! All those kudos and comments (and bookmarks and subscriptions) really do mean a lot to me, so thank you so much!
> 
> Anyway, in this chapter we have two things that happen! 1) Jason and Tim finally meet and 2) We backtrack a little bit to see Damian's POV when Babs calls Tim for help.

**Chapter 5: Can You Hear the Fury (The Tides Now Are Turning)**

* * *

Jason is very glad that he took Babs up on the offer of body armor, particularly when one of the League operatives he's brawling with tries to stab him in the kidneys only to be thwarted by the nigh-indestructible poly-whatever that the armor is made out of.

(The armor he'd borrowed from Barbara is both sturdier than he anticipated and somehow lighter, making it the perfect choice for someone who needs to be able to move quickly in a fight and still protect their vital organs.

It's more advanced than what Jason remembers from his own time as a vigilante, but he supposes that's to be expected. He's been gone for a few years, after all, and the R & D labs of Wayne Enterprises have obviously kept churning out new toys during his absence.

He wonders what else he's missed, then abruptly shuts that thought down. Because that way lies madness, and he's dealing with enough of that already, thank you very fucking much.)

The assassin curses as the knife in his hand rebounds off of Jason's armor, and Jason wastes no time in spinning around and delivering a vicious right hook right to the side of his opponent's face. He hears the operative's jaw crack from the impact, but can't find it in himself to feel even remotely sorry for breaking the guy's jaw.

Instead, he immediately follows up his first strike with another, this time a quick but ruthless jab at the guy's carotid artery. The assassin looks stupefied for all of two and a half seconds, then he crumples to the ground in a heap.

The second League operative, who'd been lurking at the edges of the fight (presumably waiting for an opportunity to shiv Jason while he's distracted) takes one look at his unconscious comrade and bolts for the closest exit.

That exit just so happens to be a sliding glass door that leads out into the alleyway behind the building, and Jason curses as the assassin crashes through the glass and vaults over the pile of rotting furniture that's sitting outside.

He's not terribly keen on chasing down a League operative through miles of winding alleys, but it's not like he has much of a choice; he can't risk the assassin getting away and coming back for Damian.

So he leaves the first operative knocked out on the floor of the abandoned building and hauls ass after the second attacker.

As it turns out, he needn't have bothered.

The second operative barely makes it a hundred yards before suddenly a slender figure is swooping down from the fire escape above, a thin yellow staff flashing out of nowhere to crack against his head to knock him out without doing any serious permanent damage.

The assassin drops like a marionette with its strings cut, landing face-first on the pavement with a heavy thud.

"Well," Robin says, "that was a bit easier than I expected, all things considered."

Jason just stares. And stares. And then stares some more because  _what the fuck_. "What are you doing here?" he asks, and it comes out as a croak more than anything.

Robin hesitates, twirling his collapsible staff absently in a way that speaks of nervous energy. "Oracle asked me to come," he says after a moment of tense silence. "She said you were chasing after some League goons and could use some back up."

"And she sent  _you_?"

Robin gives an almost imperceptible flinch (if Jason hadn't been watching the kid so closely he wouldn't have even seen it) and lets out a short sigh that's tinged with both frustration and resignation. "I'm not terribly thrilled about it, either," he says dryly. "But Oracle was very…insistent. And because I'm not an idiot, I agreed rather than risk her wrath."

As unhappy as Jason is to see him (and man, is he unhappy; just a glimpse of that red, yellow, and green uniform is enough to kick up all sorts of conflicting feelings), he can acknowledge that Tim did indeed make the smart choice by obeying Babs; he sure as hell wouldn't want to get on her bad side, and he can't blame the kid for being savvy enough to feel the same way.

Even so… "You shouldn't be here," Jason tells the kid, because he  _shouldn't_ , for all sorts of reasons. "These operatives aren't fooling around."

Robin just gives a slight shrug. "I know you don't think much of me," he says, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of something almost like irritation underneath, "but I'm hardly helpless. Ninja assassins are dangerous, sure, but I'm not scared of them."

"There are dangers besides the assassins that you should worry about, too," Jason warns him, because it's the truth. Because he knows  _himself_ , can feel the acidic burn of the Pit sizzling through his veins, and knows that having Tim here (having the person who _replaced him as Robin_  here) is a Very Bad Idea.

(Because while Barbara seems confident in his restraint and unwillingness to hurt Tim, Jason lacks that same faith in himself. Because a small, dark, green-tinged part of him _does_  want to hurt the kid, to lash out at the teenager who's wearing his uniform. Who replaced him, both as Robin and as Bruce's son.

He's angry and hurting, and he know himself well enough understand the risk he poses to those around him when he gets like this. Hell, he would be a volatile mess in this situation even  _without_  the Lazarus taint fucking up his equilibrium worse than it already is.  _With_  the taint, he might as well be a powder keg waiting to blow and he knows it.

He can rein it in most of the time, keep the anger and the feelings of betrayal tucked down and buried out of sight but standing here, face to face with the kid who's replaced him…

Yeah, this is definitely a bad idea.)

Tim, for his part, gives Jason a long look, expression inscrutable behind his domino mask. "I'll leave if you want me to," he says at last, voice rough with some emotion that Jason can't pinpoint (nervousness, maybe?). "I agree with Oracle in that you should have someone watching your back if you're tracking down the League operatives who attacked you earlier, but if you really want me to go, I'll go."

Jason opens his mouth to say  _"Great, so go the fuck away,"_  then hesitates, taking a moment to really look at the kid.

Tim's obviously tense, that much is crystal clear from the tight grip he has on his staff, but at the same time he's trying to keep his body language relaxed and nonthreatening. Of course, Jason doesn't doubt that Tim could leap into action at a moment's notice despite that seemingly at-ease stance; he'd taken down that League assassin pretty damn quick, after all, so it's clear that he's got skills. Whatever his faults, Bruce certainly hasn't slacked in training the kid.

(If anything, Bruce has probably trained Tim harder than he'd trained the previous Robins.  _Because of my death_ , crosses Jason's mind before he works at shutting that thought away too; thinking about his own death is in no way conducive to keeping a stable frame of mind.)

 _I should really tell him to get lost_ , Jason thinks, because for all that training Tim is still just, what, sixteen? And not a terribly beefy sixteen at that; he's shorter than Jason was at that age, and possibly a bit skinnier as well, as if he's not eating as much as he should.

So yeah, Jason should tell him to go away. But for some reason when he opens his mouth again what comes out instead is, "Why did you come?"

Tim, previously glancing over at the unconscious assassin sprawled out on the ground, looks back at Jason. "I already told you," he says, confusion creeping into both his expression and his voice. "Oracle said you needed help."

"And you agreed, just like that? You don't even know me."

"She said you needed help," Tim repeats firmly, in a tone that seems to imply that Jason is missing something obvious.

 _I'm not terribly thrilled about it, either_ , the teen had said earlier, but here the idiot was anyway, trying to help Jason.

"Alright, fine," Jason snaps, relenting (for the moment, at least). "You can tag along but I'm in charge, got it? I won't have you blundering in like an idiot and getting yourself killed."

A peculiar expression flickers across Tim's face but it's gone again too fast for Jason to really assess it. "Of course," is all Robin has to say in response to the ultimatum.

Jason grumbles some more but can't think of anything else to say.

Well, nothing else to say to _Tim_ , at least. He has a few choice words for Babs about her deciding to send him back up without bothering to even  _mention_  it to him, but it's nothing that can't wait until their next check-in in twenty minutes. So instead, he directs his attention to the situation at hand; namely, what to do with the two assassins that he and Tim had incapacitated.

"I don't suppose we could just dump them in Gotham Bay and call it good riddance to bad rubbish," Jason muses aloud.

Tim gives a snort of amusement, which surprises Jason. "I don't have any objections personally considering the fact that they tried to kill you and kidnap the demon-spawn, but the big guy would roast us alive if he ever found out."

Jason concedes the point with a nod, because Bruce definitely would take issue with that particular course of action, then heaves a long-suffering sigh. "In that case, I guess we'd better just dump them at the closest precinct and let the cops deal with it."

"I'm sure the commissioner will be thrilled," Tim says dryly, but obligingly stows away his collapsible bo staff and leans over to grab the League operative off the ground. "I'll go on ahead with this one," he says to Jason. "See you at the precinct?"

"I'll be right behind you," Jason tells him, doubling back and heading for the tenement where he'd left the other League warrior. He slings the guy none-too-gently over his shoulder then heads back outside, grappling to the nearest rooftop and making his way to the closest precinct from there.

He's not surprised to see Robin perched among the gargoyles adorning the bank across the street, waiting for him. He's still not  _happy_  about the other vigilante's presence, but he's not surprised that the kid's still; if nothing else, Tim had seemed determined to follow through on backing Jason up.

Jason still thinks having his replacement as his back-up is a terrible idea for all involved, but he's hardly in a position to complain (and even if he did complain, Barbara would never let him live it down). So he dumps the assassin he's carrying smack-dab in the middle of a cluster of policemen who had been huddled together in the precinct parking lot, sipping at their coffees and exchanging gossip, and then grapples across the street to rejoin Tim.

"Where to next?" the third Robin asks, then curses under his breath when Jason tells him about the last two operatives hiding out in the botanical gardens. "If I get eaten by a jumbo-sized Venus flytrap," Tim gripes, "I am holding you personally responsible."

Jason considers arguing the point, because technically it would be Ra's al Ghul's fault for sending operatives into Gotham in the first place, but in the end he just shrugs. "Fair enough. But may I remind you: no one's making you come along," he points out.

That earns him a glare. "And can I remind you: you need someone watching your back." A pause, then, "I can call Nightwing, if you'd prefer his company instead."

Jason considers that for all of ten seconds before making a face. "Hard pass," he says, because he's not even remotely in the right frame of mind to deal with Dick and his funky big brother issues right now.

Tim snorts, like he'd anticipated that response somehow, and pulls out his grapple. "Well, we'd better get going then, don't you think? Those assassins won't stay put in the park forever."

"Yeah," Jason agrees, and then they're hurtling across the rooftops again.

* * *

To say that Damian is unhappy about being left behind would be an understatement in the extreme.

And it's not that he doesn't understand Jason's desire to keep him safe and out of the line of fire; he does understand it. He just doesn't  _agree_  with it. After all, those League operatives had attacked them  _because of him_. Because his grandfather wanted him back.

It doesn't seem fair to let Jason do all the fighting, not when Damian is the true target.

He'd tried explaining that to Barbara Gordon after Jason had left, because surely a woman of such considerable intelligence would be able to understand his perspective, but she'd just given him a look that was half amused and half sympathetic.

"I know you're worried about Jason," she'd told him, "but please believe me when I say that it's better for you  _and_  him if you stay put here with me, okay?"

Damian had been vaguely offended by that remark, because it seemed to imply that he would just get in the way. Which was preposterous; he had been trained by the League's most elite operatives since practically birth, so it was nigh impossible for him to be a hindrance in a fight.

Barbara had gone on to explain that while he might be an asset in terms of fighting capability, he would serve as a distraction for Jason. "If you're within a hundred yards during a fight," she'd said, tone patient, "he's going to spend every second worrying for you instead of paying attention to everything else. And I don't think it's a very good idea for him to be distracted when fighting League assassins, do you?"

Damian had wanted to object, but the logic of her argument was undeniable. As much as Damian wanted to be there to help Jason himself, his presence might actually do more harm than good.

Since the last thing he wanted was to cause harm to Jason, who'd already been harmed enough, he had to stand down. For the moment, at least. It makes sense, logically.

Even so, thirty minutes after Jason's departure and twenty minutes after his first conversation with Barbara Gordon, he still can't shake the discomfort that's creeping along his spine. "I don't like him being out there alone," he blurts out suddenly, the words popping out of his mouth entirely without his permission.

There's a moment of silence, and it stretches on so long that Damian wonders if Barbara had even heard him. She does currently seem fairly intent upon her computer screens, after all; perhaps she's so entrenched in her work that she isn't even listening.

But then…

"I don't like it, either," she murmurs, slender fingers pausing in the middle of whatever line of code she'd been working on. She stares at her keyboard for another moment, gaze unfocused as if her mind is elsewhere. Then, after what seems like a small eternity yo Damian, she pulls open a communication program and types something in.

 _Initiating Outgoing Call_  pops up on the main computer screen, followed immediately by  _Timothy Jackson Drake._ On another screen, what looks like a small map of the streets of Gotham opens up, with a glowing green dot labeled T.D. moving along at a fairly steady pace towards the outskirts of the city where the Manor is located.

"You're calling  _Drake_?" Damian asks, aghast. "Why him?"

"Because he's the best choice right now," Oracle says, as if it should be obvious.

"In what way is  _he_  the best choice for anything?" Damian demands.

Oracle gives a short sigh, tapping her fingers absentmindedly along the armrests of her wheelchair as they wait for the call to connect. "Because the alternative is either Dick or Bruce," she says bluntly. "And trust me when I say that neither of them are the right fit for backing up Jason. Not right now, at least. We'll have to get them involved sooner rather than later given the seriousness of the situation, but for the time-being I think it's better to keep them in the dark and out of Jason's way."

Damian scowls a bit at that, wondering why his father and Grayson aren't suitable for supporting Jason's pursuit of the assassins, but before he can voice his thoughts out loud the call to the third Robin connects.

"Um…hello?" is Tim's greeting, the uncertainty clear in his voice even through the phone call. He's wondering why Oracle is calling him, Damian supposes.

"Hi, Tim," Barbara says. "Sorry to call you during your drive back from school, but I was hoping to ask you for a favor."

"A favor?" the teenager repeats curiously, then, "Wait, hold on, how do you know I'm driving home from school right now?"

"Because your car is LoJacked," Barbara says with a faint smile as she looks at the map on her screen, "courtesy of Bruce. And I have access to the tracking program."

"Okay," Tim says, speaking slowly as if he's weighing his words carefully. "My adoptive dad put a tracker in my car. That's not creepy  _at all_."

"If it makes you feel any better, he's done it with all of us at some point?" Barbara offers, giving a shrug that only Damian can see. "Even me, and I'm the  _police commissioner's_  daughter."

"That's not even remotely reassuring," Tim replies, "but thanks for trying. Anyway, you said something about a favor?"

"Yeah." Barbara chews on her lower lip for moment, then takes a deep breath. "So…it's like this: The League of Assassins is in town, they're after Damian, and Jason could use some back-up."

A few seconds of dead silence, then…

" _What_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's the end of the chapter. I figured that was an okay place to stop, since we've already seen the rest of that conversation from Tim's POV, lol. I just wanted some of Damian's perspective for not just the start of that call but also his conversation with Babs that led to that call. So…yeah! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. As always, I welcome your feedback! I'm over on tumblr as well (@yuzukimist) if anyone wants to hang out with me there. :)
> 
> Also, there will most likely be a bit of a delay between this chapter and Chapter 6. I've got about half of it written already, but I'm probably going to be pretty busy for the next couple months; I'm going to be moving into a new place this week (I'm so excited!) and that probably won't allow for a lot of time for writing. I just wanted to let you guys know in advance. <3


	6. I Can't Help This Awful Energy (Goddamn Right, You Should Be Scared of Me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, everyone! Thanks as always for all the amazing feedback on the last chapter! The response for this story really has been incredible, you guys are so great! 
> 
> A huge thanks as well for your tremendous patience; I know the wait for this new chapter was a bit longer than usual and I apologize. I recently moved into a new place and I've been so busy getting settled in that I haven't had much time for writing. But I seem to have gotten my groove back, so hopefully I'll be able to get back to writing every day like I used to. ;D
> 
> Anyway, this chapter features Jason and Tim having adventures in the Giordano Botanical Gardens as they try to track down the remaining two League operatives. And by "adventures" I mean they get attacked by mutant plants and Jason has a bit of a Pit energy flare-up. Fun times for all! ;D Enjoy!

**Chapter 6: I Can't Help This Awful Energy (Goddamn Right, You Should Be Scared of Me)**

* * *

"This is fucking ridiculous," Jason snarls, struggling to get loose from the tendrils of the Black-Eyed Susan vine plant that's trying to climb high enough to strangle him. "Poison Ivy's still locked up in Arkham Asylum, isn't she? So why are these plants acting like this?"

"How the hell should I know?" Tim retorts, dodging a cholla cactus that definitely should  _not_  be growing in this environment. "Unlike a certain super-villain,  _I_  don't speak plant."

Jason mutters a slew of curses (some of which are so vile that they almost make Tim's ears bleed) and rips off the flowery vines that are trying to crawl up his torso. "Let's get out of this part of the garden," he growls a moment later, once he's reduced the Black-Eyed Susan plant to little more than a pile of mulch.

Tim, who is on the verge of using his staff like a baseball bat to keep the Bouncing Cactus Balls From Hell away from him, agrees wholeheartedly. "We should probably contact Oracle," he says a few minutes later, once they've relocated to an area of the botanical gardens that seems to have missed out on Pamela Isley's green thumb; the only plants present are some scrubby little bushes and a couple patches of herbs that are all in various stages of wilting. "Fighting those plants wasted a  _lot_  of time," he explains when all Jason does is arch an eyebrow at him. "And I don't know about you, but I'd like to confirm that those League goons are actually still in here somewhere before we go traipsing further in."

Jason makes a face, but taps the earpiece he's wearing to turn it to the appropriate frequency as Tim does the same. "Hey, Oracle. You there?"

"No," Barbara replies, her tone dust-dry. "I hopped a flight to Dubai. Please leave a message with my life-size decoy."

Jason gives a small snort of amusement. "Well, can your life-size decoy please run a check on the CCTV cameras on the perimeter of Giordano to make sure the assassins haven't left the park? Because as much I'm enjoying getting eaten alive by sentient plants over here, I'd like to make sure it's not for no reason."

"Copy that," Barbara replies. "I'm reviewing the footage now." A slight pause, then, "How's Robin doing? Are you two getting along okay?"

Jason slants Tim a questioning look, and all Tim can do is shrug. Jason doesn't really want him there and Tim doesn't really want to be there, but they're making it work.

For now, at least. Tim's not entirely certain that they'll  _keep_  getting along, especially since Jason seems to be getting more irritable by the minute (presumably because they haven't caught up with the remaining two League operatives yet), but for the moment things are…okay.

"Yeah, we're just peachy," Jason drawls now. "Thanks for asking. Although for future reference, I would like at least a thirty second warning before you dump a tag-along on me."

"Hey," Tim says indignantly, vaguely offended.

"He's your  _back-up_ , not a tag-along," Barbara agrees, her tone slightly reprimanding.

Jason grumbles, but lets the subject drop.

"Anyway," Babs says now, "I've just sped through the last half hour of footage from the cameras around the perimeter of the gardens and can confirm that, yes, the assassins are still in there somewhere. None of the cameras picked up any sign of them leaving. They haven't approached the tourist office at the park's main entrance, either," she adds helpfully. "I checked the security camera in the lobby to be sure, but it's just been the usual fare: parents with their kids, a couple little tour groups, that sort of thing."

"So they're almost definitely still here in the gardens," Tim summarizes. "Somewhere."

"Somewhere," Barbara agrees. "Also, Damian is back to saying how he should be out there helping you, Jason."

"Hell to the  _no_ ," Jason says emphatically. "He's their target, for fuck's sake! Don't let him out of your sight, okay?"

"Of course not," she answers, and Tim can practically  _hear_  her rolling her eyes. "But you wanted updates on how the kid's doing, so that's what you're going to get. It's hardly my fault that he's just as stubborn as everyone else in this family."

Jason huffs out a short sigh. "Yeah, okay. Thanks for the update on the brat, and for the help with the cameras. I'll keep you posted on our progress out here."

"Sounds good. Be careful, both of you."

Jason and Tim both agree to be careful (making them both liars, really) and then the communication line goes silent as Babs returns to whatever she was working on before they called.

"Well," Tim says awkwardly after the silence hovering around them starts to get genuinely tense and uncomfortable, "guess we should head deeper into the gardens, then?"

Jason scowls, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he's trying to stave off a headache, then nods. "Yeah," he says shortly, turning on his heel and all but storming off down a nearby path. "Let's get going."

Tim tries to not take Jason's increasingly terse responses personally, but even so he can't help but be stung by his predecessor's attitude. He knows  _logically_  that it's Jason's frustration making his temper short, but even so he can't help but think of the way Jason had said  _tag-along_ , his tone dismissive as if Tim's little more than a piece of baggage.

He takes a deep breath, reminds himself that Jason is working through plenty of issues of his own in addition to this League of Assassins bullshit, and follows his brother deeper into the gardens.

* * *

Jason doesn't know what it is -whether it's being attacked by assassins, meeting the guy who'd replaced him, nearly being strangled to death by a plant, or some combination thereof- but the Lazarus energy lingering in his body has been making its presence more known within the last half hour or so. He can feel the taint creeping through his veins, eating away at his self-control like acid.

He can  _feel_  himself slipping, little by little. And that's probably the most frustrating (and horrifying) part of the whole situation; he  _knows_  what's happening, but he can't  _stop_  it.

He's pretty sure that Tim is starting to realize that something's up, too (not surprising, if the new Robin really is as smart as Dick and Bruce have said). The teenager's getting more tense by the minute, and while that's probably as least partly the result of Ivy's psycho plants (poor guy almost took a cactus to the face, after all), Jason's self-aware enough to notice that his own deteriorating mood is making the kid twitchy.

He  _really_  hopes that they stumble across the last League operatives sooner rather than later. The quicker they're dealt with, the quicker Jason can send Tim away and go find a safe-house where he can have a Lazarus-induced meltdown in private.

He finds himself wishing that Talia was with him. Whatever her faults, she's always known how to talk him down from the edge instead of winding him up further the way everyone else does. He figures that particular talent comes from being raised by Ra's al Ghul, who's pretty much the poster child for Lazarus-induced mental instability (if there's someone else in the world who's been plunged into the Pit more times than Ra's, Jason very much does  _not_  want to meet them).

(Sometimes when he's feeling particularly morbid, Jason wonders what might have become of him if Talia had used her knowledge of the Lazarus Pit's effects to hurt him rather than help him; wonders what might have come to pass if she had encouraged his anger and wrath and allowed him to spiral out of control.

Given the givens, Jason's pretty sure that Talia saved him, too, when she had him take Damian away from the League.)

But Talia isn't here now; she's halfway around the world and all he's got is Timothy Drake, the newest Robin. And the kid might be smart and a decent fighter, but he won't be much of a match for Jason if this Lazarus energy flare-up drives him 'round the bend.

So now not only is he in a hurry to find the League operatives in order to eliminate (or at least reduce) the threat to Damian, but for Tim's sake as well.

_I kind of regret getting out of bed this morning,_  Jason thinks.

* * *

Tim is pretty sure that if he never has to set foot in this park again, he'll be much happier for it. Thus far, he's been attacked by the most vicious cactus known to mankind, he's got a headache the size of Jupiter, and his so-called brother is being an asshole.

(There are, Tim reflects, certain days where he very much regrets getting out of bed in the morning. This day is indisputably shaping up to be one of them.)

That being said, as frustrating as the current situation is, it's thankfully not hopeless or endless. It takes them another twenty minutes of searching, but he and Jason finally manage to track down the remaining pair of League operatives; it turns out that they've taken refuge in the north-east quadrant of the park, which is primarily known for its meditation gardens and koi ponds but also for the twisting hedge maze that has always reminded Tim of the Triwizard Tournament labyrinth from  _The Goblet of Fire_  (albeit significantly smaller and thankfully not full of magical monsters…at least not that he's currently aware of).

The two would-be kidnappers are, of course, within the maze rather than enjoying the relaxing atmosphere of the meditation areas, and while Tim would normally enjoy going through the maze, this is not a normal situation.

And he is not at all in the mood to be rushing through the leafy corridors, deflecting razor-sharp shuriken with his staff while Jason takes on the other operative, who's wielding a sleek katana with an eagerness that kind of makes Tim want to run for cover on general principle even though he's not even the one fighting her.

He doesn't have much attention to spare for worrying about Jason's fight, though; his attacker runs out of shuriken fairly quickly, and wastes no time in closing the distance and coming at him with trench knives and lethal intent.

He ducks under the first slash and manages to parry the second attack with his staff, but the assassin proves to be just a hair quicker than he is; she lashes out with a kick so fast that he almost can't track it and sends him flying backwards to crash into the closest wall of the maze with a strangled curse.

He doesn't even have time to catch his breath and assess the damage done to his torso; his opponent comes flying at him again, one arm coming up in a knife-hand strike, and he throws himself to the side to dodge the attack. He tumbles down to the ground and then rolls back up to his feet, spinning back around with an attack of his own.

The assassin dodges his first strike, barely slides out of the way of his second strike, somersaults under his third attack, and then  _finally_  Tim manages to feint to one side and lash out with his staff to knock her legs out from under her. He doesn't give her enough time to get back up, either; he leaps forward and puts her in a sleeper choke-hold before she can do more than scramble into a crouch, one hand reaching for the dagger tucked into her boot before she passes out.

He quickly slips zip-ties around not just her wrists but also her ankles, and (in a move that makes him think that Bruce's paranoia is starting to rub off on him) slips a tracker into one of her boots on the off-chance that she wakes up, breaks free, and makes a run for it.

In any case, once he's finished with her, he stands up and looks around for Jason. He spots his predecessor a moment later, when he comes crashing through one of the maze walls with a growled curse, the assassin he's battling with looking decidedly less enthusiastic about the fight now that she's actually having to deal with the seemingly unstoppable force that is Jason on the warpath. Tim can count seventeen different wounds across her body, at minimum; honestly, he's a bit surprised that she's even still standing and fighting considering how much blood she must have lost by now.

Of course, from what Tim can see, Jason isn't precisely unscathed himself.

From the looks of it, Jason had taken a partial sword hit to the face at some point during the fight. The assassin must have been aiming for his eye, Tim realizes. She'd been trying to blind him, but Jason must have leaned out of way just in time; there was thin gash slicing through his left eyebrow and across his forehead towards his hairline (totally wrecking his borrowed domino mask in the process, Tim can't help but notice) but beyond that there's not a lot of damage.

_Lucky_ , Tim thinks, then corrects himself.  _Skilled. Not lucky._  It took more than luck to avoid a sword strike to the face, especially when the person trying to take out your eyes was a trained assassin.

The assassin in question actually takes another swing at Jason's face with her sword, but Jason (seemingly at the end of his rope in regards to patience) blocks the attack with a knife that Tim's pretty sure he hadn't been holding five seconds previously. This apparently takes his opponent by surprise, and Jason takes advantage of the assassin's half-second of hesitation by reaching out to disarm her, ruthlessly breaking her wrist to force her to drop the weapon.

The League operative lets out a strangled shriek of pain, but the sound is cut off when Jason quickly hits her upside the head and she crumples to the ground, unconscious.

"Well," Tim says, trying to ignore the vivid crimson streak of blood smeared across Jason's forehead. "That didn't go quite according to plan, but at least we-"

"You need to leave," Jason says suddenly, cutting him off. "Right now."

Tim just sort of gapes at him for a minute, torn between startlement and irritation. "Uh, what?" is what he finally manages to get out after a moment. Maybe he'd misheard?

"Leave," Jason orders. "Now."

So much for mishearing. "Don't be ridiculous," Tim replies. "I need to help you take these last two operatives down to the precinct, remember?"

"I'll handle it," Jason says shortly. "YoOu should leave before you get hurt any worse."

Tim blinks at him, confused. "I'm not going to get injured again," he says slowly, feeling a bit like he's two steps behind in the conversation. "Not today, at least. We've already eliminated the threats." He gestures at the two trussed up assassins to emphasize his point.

"Not all of them," Jason counters, practically snarling as he rips his damaged domino mask from his face, eyes shimmering green in the afternoon light. "Not  _me_."

Tim heart does an odd little leap in his chest, and a tingle of something very close to fear darts through him.  _Something isn't right here_ , he thinks vaguely, but even that feeling of uneasiness isn't enough to get him to leave without arguing. He might be unsettled by Jason's demeanor, but he's stubborn, too. "What are you talking about-"

Jason just takes half a step in his direction and says " _Go_ ," in what is possibly the most dangerous tone of voice Tim has heard from anyone in the history of ever.

He goes.

He goes and goes and goes until the pain in his ribs is sharp and burning, all but forcing him to slow down.

Tim finally stops to catch his breath on top of the high-rise condominium building that's across the street from Gotham General Hospital, his thoughts whirling a mile a minute.

He thinks of mood swings and volatile behavior, and of the flicker of fear that had crossed Jason's face even as the older vigilante had snarled for Tim to go away.

He thinks of how Jason's eyes had looked almost green when they'd caught the light as he'd peeled off his damaged domino mask and tossed it away, even though Tim knows for a fact that Jason's eyes are blue. Or  _should be_  blue, at least.

He thinks of all the impossible ways for someone to come back to life and remembers that Jason had been training with the League of Assassins before he'd left to bring Damian to Gotham.

He thinks about who precisely is in charge of that organization, and remembers that Ra's al Ghul is more than Damian's grandfather and the Demon's Head.

Ra's al Ghul is a man who has died dozens of times and returned to life over and over and over again thanks to whatever lurks in those mysterious Lazarus Pits of his .

Tim thinks again of Jason, of his impossible resurrection and his mood swings and his eyes tinted green, and thinks that perhaps he's beginning to understand.


	7. Sometimes the Weight Is More Than I Can Hold (I'd Rather Fail Than Not Know)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Welcome back! Sorry for the delay in updating! I got a bit sidetracked with some of my other stories, and then I was preoccupied with some school stuff (and also some work stuff that involved a bit of a schedule change). ^_^;
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the all the amazing comments on the last chapter; I'm super glad that you all enjoyed it! I'm doing my best to reply personally to all comments, but I'm a bit behind at the moment, so sorry about that, too. XD
> 
> Anyway, this chapter features a tiny bit of Jason POV, followed by a massive chunk of Tim POV. Because despite this being a Jason-centric story, Tim is somehow the best perspective? Idk. Also, Bruce is finally joining us and he may (or may not) come across as kind of OOC here; I justify it as him being a little better at being a dad since he 1) got Jason back and 2) also has Damian in his custody as well, which is making him slightly more mindful of how he handles things with his kids since he's trying to set a good example for the baby assassin XD.
> 
> In any case, enjoy the chapter! And for those who are curious, the chapter title comes from a song called "Die Trying" by the band Art of Dying.

**Chapter 7:** **Sometimes the Weight Is More Than I Can Hold (I'd Rather Fail Than Not Know)**

* * *

Jason feels vaguely guilty for sending Tim away, although not necessarily for the actual act of making him leave. No, he feels like shit for  _how_  he'd handled it; he'd caught a glimpse of Tim's face as the kid had bolted and he hadn't just looked frustrated or surprised, he'd looked downright spooked. As if Jason had scared him.

(It was, Jason figured, actually a pretty reasonable response. After all, Jason scared himself sometimes these days; he could hardly fault a teenager who barely knew him for actually having some modicum of a survival instinct.)

Even so, he feels bad about it. As Babs had reminded him, Tim had been there to back him up. Jason had repaid that by snapping at the kid and lashing out at him. Granted, shouting at the kid was preferable to physically attacking him, and that's regrettably the direction things were heading in thanks to Jason's Lazarus-induced hostility.

_It's fine_ , Jason tells himself, trying to get the green taint in his mind to recede through sheer force of will.  _I didn't hurt Tim, he's fine, I'm fine. Everything's fine._

Except everything  _isn'_ t fine. He needs to get the two unconscious assassins to the closest police precinct without killing them (a tall order, since he  _really_  wants to kill them; they'd come here to abduct his baby brother, after all).

(It would be  _so easy_  to do it, too. Just a couple strategic knife strikes, maybe a crushed larynx to forestall any screaming, and it would be all over.

_No_ , Jason tells himself firmly, taking a deep breath and clenching his hands into fists so they don't shake.  _No. I don't need to kill them. They no longer pose a threat to Damian. All I need to do is haul their unconscious carcasses to the closest precinct and let the Gotham police department deal with them.)_

It takes more effort than it should to talk himself out of killing the bastards, but he manages It. Somehow.

He takes them to the precinct instead.

(If he hears Talia's voice in the back of his mind saying, "You are stronger than the taint, Jason" and Bruce's voice saying "Welcome home, Jason"…and if those echoes help him cling to who he is underneath the Lazarus taint… well, that's his own business.

The reminder that he has people that care about him helps, though, a bit. He just wishes that Bruce or Talia could be with him right now.

It's impossible, though. Talia is probably on the run from her father -it's the only logical explanation for why she hadn't been able to warn them of the kidnapping attempt- and there's no way Bruce will find out about what's going on anytime soon.

_Looks like I've got to ride this out on my own_ , Jason thinks grimly, and calculates how long he has to get to a safe-house before the taint erodes away what's left of his self control. )

* * *

Tim's first instinct (aside from the knee-jerk reaction of wanting to go back and find Jason) is to return to Oracle's Clocktower, because Barbara Gordon is the smartest person he's ever met; who better to share his Lazarus Pit theory with than the most intelligent person in all of Gotham?

But the more he thinks about it, the less it feels like the right move; Babs is brilliant, but she's also got her hands full with babysitting Damian right now, and if Tim bursts in babbling about the Lazarus Pit and resurrected brothers he'll only be adding to her (already considerably) stress levels.

Of course, the demon brat himself might be able to answer at least some of Tim's questions; he's close to Jason, and therefore probably knows something about how the second Robin had returned to the land of the living.

But Damian's never going to answer questions like that, especially if  _Tim's_  the one who's asking; the kid has made his opinion of Tim pretty damn clear and it's not complimentary.

Which means that there's no point in Tim scurrying back to the Clocktower, not right now at least; Babs almost definitely doesn't have the answers to his questions, and even if Damian  _does_  have the answers he's not going to share that information with Tim.

(It's probably for the best that he doesn't go back right now, anyway; he'd have to explain to Barbara why exactly he'd bailed on Jason after agreeing to back him up, and he has a feeling that "He told me to leave" wasn't going to fly with the Oracle no matter what Tim said in his own defense.)

The next person who pops into his head is Dick but Tim shuts down that avenue of thought almost immediately; Dick has enough Jason-related issues already, and Tim showing up to say "I think our brother was brought back to life via a magical pit of crazy" is almost definitely not going to help.

(And considering the fact that Dick's immediate response would very likely be to go haring after Jason on his own, Tim feels justified in not telling him; Jason had seemed pretty adamant after being left alone, after all. And if Jason hadn't wanted Tim -who he barely even knows- around, it stands to reason that he'd want to overbearingly clingy older brother in the vicinity even  _less_.)

So that takes Dick out of the equation; Tim's not going to accost Nightwing with his Lazarus Pit theory until he's certain that both Dick and Jason are mentally and emotionally at a point where that conversation can happen without the whole thing devolving into a shouting match.

(Given the current tensions between them, Tim wagers that it'll take a solid month. At  _minimum_.)

But that leaves Tim floundering, because who else is there for him to go to with this? Steph and Cass are too removed from the situation, and they're busy with their own vigilante caseloads besides.

Then he nearly smacks himself in the head, because  _duh_.

Bruce.

Out of the entire crazy family, Bruce is the best person to go to with this. He's without a doubt the person who would be the most invested in hearing Tim's Lazarus Pit theory; hell, he might already know something about it! Bruce and Alfred were the first people Jason had talked to when he'd returned to Gotham, after all.

And if that's the case, it perhaps makes Bruce an even better choice for who Tim should talk to; surely Jason's father would want to know that Jason's struggling with residual Pit energy, right? Assuming, of course, that that's what's behind Jason's sudden and alarming shift in demeanor.

(Given the evidence that's stacking up so far, Tim's willing to make that assumption.)

Tim is briefly worried about the meeting that Bruce is supposed to be busy with today, but the worry doesn't last long (about twenty or thirty seconds total, which says it all really). Besides, it's been hours since Tim first got that original call from Babs; the meeting should be winding to a close by now anyway, and even if it isn't, what Tim had told Babs earlier still holds true: Bruce will happily ditch out of a prolonged company meeting, especially if the welfare of his family is at stake.

Tim's pretty confident in that assumption tool, because the welfare of Bruce's family _is_  at stake; the League's in town trying to steal Damian and Jason's having some sort of episode. And Jason and Damian are Bruce's sons in a way that Tim isn't; Tim is sure that if he goes to Bruce and tells him about the danger that Jason and Damian are in, Bruce will drop whatever else he's doing, no questions asked.

(Well, there will actually probably be plenty of questions asked, because Bruce is Bruce and he likes to know as much as possible about  _everything_  -it's one of the few things he and Tim have in common, in fact- but whatever. The point is, Bruce will listen if Tim says that there's something wrong.)

Bruce will help Jason and Damian, will keep them safe, and at this point that's all Tim really cares about.

(Because he might not get along with them -might barely even  _know_  them- but they're still his brothers, in law if nothing else, and that  _means_  something to him even though he knows it's stupid and naive of him to feel that way.

It's probably Dick's overly affectionate nature rubbing off on him that's to blame for this excess of sappy sentiment but even so…

Even so, for all his grumbled complaints to Nightwing and Oracle about not wanting to get involved, Tim's nothing if not loyal.)

Tim heads for Wayne Enterprises, stopping off briefly at a safe-house so he can change out of the distinctive Robin costume and into something a little more appropriate for a corporate setting.

He makes his way up from the main lobby to the boardroom level and only gets mistake for an intern twice, an improvement over his last visit (and even if it is a bit annoying to be mistaken for an intern when he's the adoptive son  _of the company's owner_ , it's still fewer interruptions than if he were still dressed like a walking traffic light in tights, so he'll take the win).

Lady Luck, for once, finally seems to be on his side: by the time he makes it to the boardroom, the meetings seemed to have adjourned; shareholders, investors, and the like are filing out in groups of two or three, chattering about stock prices and inflation and various other things that Tim doesn't care about while the scientists and researchers who'd been in attendance (for the sake of up-selling their ongoing projects in an attempt to get more funding, Tim assumes) trickle out more slowly, still flipping through the papers on their clipboards.

Tim vaguely wonders how the meeting went ( _a shareholder meeting_ , Babs had said, and it may have sounded simple, but no meeting was ever simple or easy when the company was as big and complex as Wayne Enterprises) and then gives himself a mental kick in the ass because whether the meeting went well or not is not at all relevant to the situation he's currently dealing with.

He elbows his way through the flock of people heading for the elevator he'd just vacated and nearly sighs in relief when he spots a familiar face. "Lucius," he says, shaking the man's hand in greeting just like Jack Drake had taught him. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well, Timothy, thank you." Lucius Fox gives him a warm smile. "Are you here because you're taking an interest in the business, or is this a social call?"

"Just family business," Tim replies but doesn't dare elaborate more than that, not with gossip-mongering shareholders still milling around. "Is Bruce still around, or has he taken off already? I kind of needed to talk to him about something important."

Lucius gives him a concerned look, but gestures back towards the boardroom. "He should still be inside," he answers. "Just head on in."

"Thanks, Lucius," Tim says, stepping around the man with a grateful smile and heading for the board room door. "I'll see you around."

Whatever reply Lucius gives, Tim doesn't hear it; he's already slipping through the door and nudging it shut behind him, turning over in his head the best way to tell Bruce what's going on.

(Try as he might, he can't come up with a delicate way of saying "Ra's al Ghul sent operatives to kidnap Damian, and by the way Jason's having some sort of crazy spell".

Granted, Tim is fairly certain that there isn't a tactful way of telling a man that two of his sons are currently in something very close to life-threatening danger.)

"Tim," Bruce says, looking up in surprise from the stack of pamphlets that he's trying to stuff into his already stuffed briefcase. "What brings you here? Is everything okay?"

Tim swallows hard, still trying to marshal his thoughts. "No," he says after a moment, "everything's not okay." He proceeds to lay out everything he knows about the situation as methodically as possible, starting with Oracle's phone call this morning and finishing up with Jason's abrupt departure and Tim's Lazarus Pit theory.

Bruce's face goes through several different expressions during the course of the conversation; outraged and worried when Tim explains how League operatives have come to Gotham to try to bring Damian back to Ra's, startled but pleased when Tim recounts how he'd agreed to back up Jason and help bring down the remaining would-be-kidnappers before they could try again, and then finally grim and unsurprised when Tim describes Jason's behaviour before they're parted ways.

"You're correct about the Lazarus Pit," Bruce tells him once he's done explaining things. "Jason hasn't spoken about the specifics, but he has mentioned that a Pit was used to help restore him to full physical health after the League first found him. I'm impressed you worked it out on your own with so little information to go on," Bruce adds, a tiny bit of pride shining out from behind the worry in his eyes. "Well done."

Tim flushes at the praise, then frowns a bit as his brain replays Bruce's preceding words, because 'first found him' implies that something else had already brought him at least partly back to life by then. He files it away for later consideration, because it's not immediately relevant to the situation at hand. "What are we going to do?" he asks instead.

"Normally I would say that we need to address the immediate threat of the League," Bruce replies, "but you and Jason already eliminated the operatives they sent to take Damian."

"There might be more," Tim interjects worriedly. "There's no guarantee that the ones that we took down are the only ones in the city."

"Which is why our first move is to return to the Cave," Bruce says. "Alfred needs to be apprised of the situation, and then he can use the Batcomputer to monitor transmissions an security feeds throughout Gotham. Between our systems and Oracle's, we should be able to determine whether or not there are more League operatives to contend with. And while Alfred and Barbara handle that," he continues, "I will track down Jason and try to calm him down."

Tim nods automatically in agreement, then abruptly scowls when he realizes something. "Hang on a second," he says. "What exactly am _I_  supposed to be doing during all of this, after I've helped explain things to Alfred?"

Bruce gives him a look that's somewhere between wry and fond. "You will be at home, working on that history paper you have due next Monday."

Tim can't help the long-suffering groan that slips out of his mouth. "Oh, come on," he gripes, vaguely aggravated that Bruce would choose now of all times to play the  _Go home and do your schoolwork_  card. "That's hardly important compared to what's going on with Jason and Damian!"

Bruce just arches an eyebrow, not giving an inch. "Your activities as Robin are contingent on maintaining passing grades in school, Tim, remember?"

Tim actually rolls his eyes, something he rarely has cause to do around Bruce because his adoptive father is  _usually_  sensible. "The League of Assassins is in town trying to kidnap your youngest son while your second oldest son is having some sort of breakdown as we speak  _and you're worried about my grades_? Seriously?"

(AA nagging voice at the back of his mind can't help but wonder if this is Bruce's way of trying to tell him he'd only be in the way. Granted, it doesn't quite feel like a brush-off, but what else could it possibly be?)

Bruce's expression remains stern for a moment, then softens a bit in the face of Tim's genuine indignation. "Tim, listen to me. You've done very well, helping Jason and Damian. But now it's time for you to get some rest, okay?"

(Tim can't shake the feeling that he's being benched and it's  _annoying_.)

"Bruce-"

"When was the last time you ate?" Bruce asks, giving him a knowing look. "And before you say anything,  _no_ , those energy drinks that you pretend are a food group don't count."

Tim huffs out a short laugh despite himself, because his answer  _was_  going to be that he'd just had an energy drink, at the safe-house when he'd been changing over from his vigilante uniform to the suit he's wearing now. "Dick and I went out to eat during my free period, I'm fine."

"That was was over six hours ago, Tim."

Tim opens his mouth to reiterate that he's perfectly fine, but his stomach chooses that specific moment to betray him; it lets loose an audible growl of hunger that makes Tim scowl. "Okay," he admits, "I might be a little hungry, but I had an energy drink before I came here and I am totally fine. I really don't need to-"

"Tim." Bruce comes around the conference table and puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Go home. Talk to Alfred, eat something, do your homework, and get some rest. I promise I'll call with an update as soon as I can, okay?"

Tim grumbles under his breath, but he knows the look in Bruce's eye all too well; whatever counter-arguments he offers will be shot down just as efficiently as his original argument, with only wasted time to show for his effort.

(Pig-headed stubbornness is one quality that every single person in their family has in spades, after all.)

And as much as it upsets him to be sidelined at this crucial moment (and it  _is_  upsetting, although he's doing his best to downplay exactly how much so), he can see where Bruce is coming from; Tim has done his part, and now it's time to stand down.

It's only logical, and Tim has never been one to shy away from logic. Clear-headed thinking has saved him on plenty of occasions when more emotional responses might have gotten him hurt or even killed.

(It still aches to be so quickly sent off home, though; it hurts like a deep bruise, or a bone that's almost fully mended but not quite. It brings up all those old feelings of being  _not quite good enough_  compared to the Robins who'd come before him.

He stuffs down those feelings, though, and buries them deep. The reason he'd come to Bruce in the first place was to get help for Jason and Damian, after all, and if there's one thing this conversation has established it's the fact that Bruce is going to help them. Tim's mission, such as it was, is accomplished.)

"Okay," he says, relenting at last and consoling himself with thoughts of the home-cooked (or rather, Alfred-cooked, which is even better) meal he's sure to receive once he gets back to the Manor. "Then I guess I'll see you later."

"See you later," Bruce echoes, and then he exits room with long purposeful strides.

(If Tim still feels a little bit like he's being left behind, well, at least he'll be able to get a good lunch in exchange. Hell, if he's persuasive enough, he might even be able to convince Alfred to make him a BLT.)


End file.
